


You're My Best Friend

by HopeCoppice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Best Friends, First Kiss, Holy Water aftermath, Love Confessions, M/M, Other, The night after armageddidn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 11:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21252683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: Aziraphale knows who Crowley means when he says “I lost my best friend”. At least, he thinks he does.He cherishes that thought, those words, in his heart all the way to Tadfield and all the way back.And then he walks into Crowley’s flat and sees the stain that was Ligur on the floor.





	You're My Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> You know how it is - you have a little rewatch, and you remember that you have a prompt in your file related to the scene you've just watched, and you decide to actually get your backside in gear and write it. And here it is!

“I lost my best friend,” Crowley tells him, and he sounds drunk but sincere. Aziraphale doesn’t know if Crowley can see him - he can hear him, at least - so he does his best to control his expression, just in case.

“I’m so sorry to hear it.” He can hear his voice wobbling, so he changes the subject - but Crowley’s words, his acknowledgement of their friendship even after Aziraphale has pushed him away so firmly over the last few days, keep him warm through the long scooter ride to Tadfield and the longer bus ride back. He even works up the courage to rest his hand against Crowley’s, and the demon intertwines their fingers as if it’s nothing. It isn’t nothing, not to Aziraphale. It feels like hope.

They walk into Crowley’s flat together, and then Crowley stops dead.

“Er. There’s a bit of a mess on the floor.”

"Oh?"

"Your insurance paid off, in the end. Big… big puddle of Ligur."

"Liquor?"

"Ligur. Duke of Hell. Former."

Sure enough, there's a dark, wet stain on the floor inside the doorway, and Crowley… Crowley won't even look at it. _ I lost my best friend, _ Aziraphale thinks with a sudden chill. Honestly, what right has he to call himself Crowley's friend, let alone think he's his best, or even his only one? He's never been Crowley's best friend, never been able to be - they're on opposite sides, for Somebody's sake - but another demon _ could _be. He could be everything Aziraphale always wanted to be to Crowley… and he could still have been sent to track him down.

"How did it-?"

"Bucket, on top of the door. He opened it, bam. Holy Water shower. Nasty stuff, that."

"Oh. No way of aiming that, then. No way to control who it hit."

"Unfortunately not. Can you imagine if I'd got Hastur as well?"

Of course Crowley has demon friends - _ had, _ anyway. Aziraphale supposes that this Hastur must be a close second to Ligur in that respect. And that's fine, of course, Aziraphale isn't _ jealous. _ It's just terribly sad that Crowley has had to destroy his best friend. Still, Crowley seems bitterly amused at the thought that it could have been worse; he _ could _ have got them both.

"We must thank God for small mercies, then," he ventures, and Crowley sneers.

"Must we?" He glances at Aziraphale, and on the way, his eyes pass over the stain on the floor; Aziraphale watches him tense up as he pointedly turns away.

"I'm sorry," he tells him quietly. "Do you want to talk about him? Ligur?"

"Why would I ever want to talk about Ligur?"

"Well- people do, sometimes- they talk about departed friends, and it helps-"

"Departed _ friends? _ Angel, I can only have met the guy two or three times in all eternity, and one of those was when he came to kill me. Where the Hel- He- Where on earth are you getting _ friend _from?"

"But you told me-" Aziraphale's heart is pounding, and he's sure the way Crowley is storming towards him has everything to do with it. "-you lost your best-"

"How can someone so clever be so stupid?" It's not the first time Crowley's said it, it's not even the first time _ today, _ but it stings all the same. And then it doesn't. "You. I thought I'd lost _ you." _

Aziraphale can't muster a coherent response to that, so he pulls Crowley into a hug. It's a surprise when Crowley allows it; more than that, he presses his face to Aziraphale's shoulder and inhales deeply, as if the faint scent of Heaven is comforting somehow. Feeling rather foolish, Aziraphale rests his head on Crowley's shoulder and takes a few deep breaths, letting Crowley's presence calm him. His heart is still racing, though; he hasn't been this close to Crowley since he first held out a wing over him, back at the very Beginning. They haven't been this close since before Aziraphale realised he was in love.

Crowley speaks again, a strangled sound.

"I suppose… if it's my last chance to say it… Aziraphale-"

"I love you," Aziraphale interrupts, because Crowley has said it a thousand times, in a thousand wordless ways, and it _ is _their last chance. Heaven and Hell will be coming for them, sooner rather than later, and they will be destroyed; they've spent a very long bus ride puzzling over a prophecy and they can't seem to find a way out. They're doomed. This is their last night; Crowley deserves to hear the words Aziraphale has fought so hard not to say.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Crowley tells him, and moves to try to steal them back.

Aziraphale doesn't know what to do, when Crowley's lips finally meet his own; he's never been kissed like this, by someone he loves, by someone who finally, _ finally, _has nothing to lose. All cards are on the table, all bets are off, and Aziraphale deepens the kiss with a giddy sort of feeling of freedom. Crowley moans into his mouth, pressing so close that it almost feels as though he'd like to wriggle inside him and hide. Aziraphale can understand the impulse; he's never felt safer than he does now, on the eve of his death, with Crowley wrapped around him like a protective cloak.

"Oh," he murmurs, pulling back, "I need you to be inside me."

"Now who goes too fast, angel?" Crowley steps back, uncertain, but Aziraphale only swats at his arm in gentle reprimand.

"Not like _ that_, at least not yet. There'll be time for that sort of thing later, if you want."

"There won't, angel." The demon's expression has turned dark and sombre. "There's only now."

"Not if- _ choose your faces- _Crowley, I think we can survive this, together."

Crowley listens attentively as Aziraphale explains his plan, and when he's finished the angel waits breathlessly for his reaction.

"I love you," the demon tells him, and then, "let's do this."


End file.
